The Bozeman weekly chronicle., 1887-02-16
CHAPTER Y.

The speed and fury with which Clinch's
cavsacade swept on In the direction Of tho
mysterious shot left Hale no chance for re-
Election. He was conscious of shouting in
coherently with the others, Of urging his
horse irresistibly forward, of momentarily
expecting to meet or overtake something, but
without any further thought. The figures of
Clinch and Rawlins Immediately before him
shut out the prospect Of the narrowing trail.
Once only, taking advantage of sudden halt
that threw them confusedly together, he
maraged to ask question.
4Losi their track-found 1t again!" shouted
the ostler, as Clinch, with cry like the bay
ing Of hound, again darted forward Their
horses were painting and trembling under
them, the ascent seemed to be growing
sleeper, singular darkness, which even the
density Of the wood did not sufficiently ac-
count for, surrounded them, but still their
leader madly urged them on. To Hale's re-
turning senses they did not seem in condi
ton to engage single resolute man, who
might have ambushed in the woods or beaten
them in detail in the narrow gorge, but in
another instant the reason Of their furious
haste was manifest Squirting his horse
ahead, Clinch dashed out into the open with
q cheering shout-a shout that as quickly
changed to yell of imprecation They were
on the Ridge in binding snowstorm! The
road bad already vanished. under their feet,
and with 1t tho fresh trail they had so closely
followed! They stood helplessly on the shore
Of & trackless white sea, blank and spotless of
any trace or sign Of the fugitives-
spears to me, boys" said the ostler, sud
denly ranging before them, Hef you're not
kalkilatin' on gittin' another party to dig ye
out, yed better be huntin' fodder and cover
instead Of road agents. 'Skuse me, gentle
men, but I'm responsible for the HOSES, ana
this amt no time for circus ridin'. We're q
matter q sig miles from the station in bee
line"
HBack to the trail, them said Clinch,
wheeling his horse toward the road they had
just Quilted
1'Skuss me, Kernel, n said the ostler, laying
his hand On Clinch's rein, "but that way only
brings us back the road we kem-the stage
road-three miles further from home That
three miles Is on the divide, and by the time
we get there it will be showed up worse nor
this The shortest cut is along the Ridge. II
We hump ourselves we ken cross the divide
afore the road Is blocked. And that, skuse
me, gentlemen, is my road"
There was no time for discussion. The
road was already palpably thickening under
their feet Hales arm was stifened to his
side by q wet, clingng snow wreath. The
figures Of the others were almost obliterated
and shapeless. It was not snowing-it was
snowballingl The huge fakes, shaken like
enormous feathers out Of a vast blue black
cloud, commingied and fell in sprays and
patches All idea Of their former pursuit
was forgotten; the blind rage and enthusi,
asm that had possessed them was gone.
They dashed after their new leader with only
an instinct for shelter and succor
They bad not ridden long when for.
tunately, As 1t seemed to Hale, the character
Of the storm changed. The snow no longer
fell In such large flakes, nor as heavily. A
bitter wind succeeded; the soft snow began
70 stiffen and crackle under the horses hoofs;
they were no longer weighted and encum-
bered by the drifts upon their bodies; the
smaller flakes now rustled and rasped against
them like sand, or bounded from them like
hail. They seemed to be moving more easily
and rapidly, their spirits were rising with
the stimulus Of cold and motion, when sud
denly their leader halted.
@It's no use, boys 1t can't be done This
is no bli.zard, but regular two days snifter
Its no longer meltin', but packin' and drift
In now. Even II we get over the divide,
we're sure to bs blocked up In the pass"
1t was truel To their bitter disappointment
they could now sss that the snow had not
really diminished In quantity, but hat the